How You Get the Girl
by Ash M. Knight
Summary: Short little one-shot inspired by Taylor Swift's "How You Get the Girl." Emma crosses the town line with Henry, forgetting Storybrooke and everything in it, and moves to New York City. Regina does anything she can to find her and get her back (despite Emma's reluctance to believe). SwanQueen.


**A/N: This is so bad I almost didn't post it. The end is ridiculous and fluffy. Prepare yourselves.**

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When Emma heard a knock on the door of her apartment, she set the bowl of raw eggs down on the kitchen counter and walked over to it, then looked through the peep hole to find a young, attractive brunette fidgeting nervously and playing with the strap of her purse.

"Um, hi?" she said as she opened the door just a crack.

"Emma… I…"

"Um… Do I know you?"

"I'm… Look, I know you don't remember me, but my name is Regina, and we used to… I…"

 _Fuck_ , the brunette silently cursed. _Definitely didn't prepare for this well enough._

"Sorry, what?" Emma asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"I know this sounds crazy, but… you used to live somewhere far away from here, a place called Storybrooke, Maine, and we were… We sort of…"

"What the fuck are you talking about? I've never lived in Maine."

"Listen, you have to believe me, okay? I _know_ it makes no sense, but I just need you to-"

"You need to go."

"Emma, please, wait. I-"

"I don't know how you know me, or who the fuck you think you are, but you can't just knock on someone's door and tell them they lived somewhere they never did and that you know each other. You just sound fucking crazy, okay? So just go, before I call the cops."

"Fuck," the woman cursed under her breath as the door was slammed in her face.

Her second round of knocking was ignored, as was the third. She called out the blonde's name a few times but received no response. At first, after realizing that harassing the woman directly wasn't going to work, Regina started to walk slowly back down the hallway, feeling defeated. Then, suddenly, her head lifted, and she started to run.

 _This is not the best idea I've ever had,_ Regina was thinking, as she sprinted back outside. _But it's definitely the most important._

After slipping into the alleyway next to the building, she bunched up her skirt and began to do the most undignified thing she'd ever done in her life. She climbed the fire escape. In the pouring rain. Once she reached Emma's window, completely drenched, she paused, debating whether to knock or to simply break in. Knowing that knocking would have earned her the sound of police sirens surrounding her, she decided to break in and catch the woman off guard before she had time to reject her or make the phone call.

To her surprise, the lock was easy enough to break, and she slipped inside effortlessly, even in the confining grip of the skirt that hugged her toned thighs. Also to her surprise, Emma appeared in the doorway of the bedroom just as she was hopping down from the windowsill.

"Oh, shit," she cursed. "Emma, wait! Don't call the cops, okay? Just listen. I-"

"Are you insane? Don't fucking move!" Emma shouted, drawing a surprisingly large Glock 21 from the holster Regina hadn't seen resting on her hip.

The .45 was aimed directly between her eyes, so she knew she had to think fast. Instead of speaking, though – nothing convincing seemed to come to her mind, and she didn't want to gamble by simply begging – Regina put her hands in the air and froze.

"Who. The fuck. Are you?" the blonde hissed, taking two large strides towards the intruder. "And why the _fuck_ are you breaking into my apartment?"

"I'm not trying to rob you or stalk you, Emma! I just want to talk!"

"You wanted to _talk,_ so you fucking _climbed the fire escape_ and _broke the lock on my fucking window?_ "

"You wouldn't listen to me. I had no other choice."

"Well, yeah! Because you're obviously crazy."

"Okay, listen. Maybe I am crazy. But I think I have something that can make you believe me."

Emma, uninterested, took another large step closer, until the muzzle of the gun was nearly pressed against the woman's forehead.

"Shit, Emma! Jesus Christ!"

"Stop saying my fucking name like you know me!"

"I _do_ know you."

"Oh, fuck off."

"What are you even going to do right now? Shoot me?"

"If you move one millimeter? Yeah. Yeah, I fucking will."

"You got someone to protect here, other than yourself?"

"What…?"

Suddenly, Emma looked concerned.

"I don't know. Like… a son, maybe? A boy named Henry?"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW MY SON?" the blonde screamed, taking one final step forward and actually pressing the cold metal of the gun against Regina's sweating forehead.

"Calm down. I can prove that I know both of you."

"How?"

"I'm going to put my arms out flat, and then you can take my purse," the brunette offered, her voice strained.

"Don't fucking move!"

"I'm just going to lower my arms half-way, then I won't move. Don't shoot me, okay?"

She didn't wait for Emma's confirmation to lower her arms, just as she said she was going to. Then, as promised, she stopped moving. When the other woman realized that Regina wasn't going to move from that position, she took one hand off the grip of the gun and used it to take the purse from Regina's shoulder. The brunette looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to open the bag, but Emma was more than hesitant to lower her weapon.

"Open it," Regina said, nodding.

"Put your fucking hands back up."

"Is this really neces-"

"DO IT!"

After jumping a little, startled by the severity of Emma's voice – a sound she hadn't heard in a long, long time – Regina put her hands back in the air.

It was only then that Emma dumped the contents of the purse out onto the bed. First, she went through the woman's wallet, which showed that her name was, in fact, Regina. Regina Mills. She looked back and forth between the picture on the license and the woman standing in front of the window. Then, she went through the rest of the contents of the bag. Some lipstick. Some cover-up. A small pack of tissues. A compact mirror. Then… a camera.

"Turn it on," the brunette instructed her, watching as the woman turned it over in her hands.

Emma, still clutching the gun with her right hand, powered the camera on with her left and looked at the screen. The first picture was a close-up shot of her son, sitting on a park bench she'd never seen before. The next few pictures were similar. He stood in front of buildings she didn't recognize, next to people she didn't know.

"Why the fuck do you have pictures of my kid?!" Emma finally screamed, looking up angrily and pointing the gun back at the brunette who was staring at her.

"Keep going."

Terrified of what she might find, but concerned for her son's safety – obviously, this woman was a creep, right? – she clicked the forward button a few more times. The next few pictures were the same – Henry and some other people, all looking very happy – but then, there was something different.

The image appeared to be one of herself kissing the cheek of the woman standing in her bedroom.

"W-What the f-fuck is this?" the blonde stammered, holding up the camera for Regina to see.

"My favorite picture of us," the brunette explained. Then, sadly, she added, "The only picture of us."

"How is this possible?" Emma breathed. "I don't even _know_ you."

"You know me better than anyone, Emma."

"You're crazy."

"You still think I'm crazy, after seeing that?"

"Photoshop is a thing!" the blonde cried. "People can just-"

"You can't Photoshop a picture while it's still on the camera, Emma."

"Look, you need to get the fuck out of here. I-"

"Emma, wait!" Regina cried, taking two quick steps closer until her hand was on the woman's shoulder. "Please. I-"

But Emma grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her until Regina's back was pressed against Emma's front and the gun was pressed to her temple.

"Holy shit, Em," Regina gasped. "Relax! Please!"

"I'm calling the cops."

"And telling them what?"

"That you broke into my house!"

"And when they see nothing's taken and a picture of you kissing my cheek on my camera? And no wounds on you whatsoever? No signs of a struggle? Who's crazy then?"

"Fuck you!"

"Look, there's something else in my purse. Something I think you'll want."

"What?"

"The truth. Let me go and see for yourself."

Emma looked down on the bed and saw a small bottle of liquid, then turned her attention back to the woman in her grip, asking, "What is it?"

"It's a memory potion. There's only enough for one person, so you'll have to explain all this to Henry, but I think he'll-"

"Don't talk about my son!"

"Once upon a time, he was _our_ son."

"SHUT UP!" Emma screamed, tightening her grip and twisting the woman's arm harder until the brunette cried out in pain.

"Emma! Just drink it!"

"Oh, fuck off! What makes you think that I'm gonna drink some creepy liquid just because some crazy person told me to?"

"Don't you want to know why you don't remember? Why that picture exists? How I know Henry?" Regina pressed. "And… why your heart is racing?"

"My heart is racing from the physical exertion of trying to contain a psychopath who just broke into my house!"

"Are you really afraid of me?"

"Well… I mean…"

"Are you afraid of me, or is this a fight or flight response you're using to defend yourself from your own memories?"

"Stop it!"

"Drink it."

"I'm not going to drink it! What if you're just trying to drug me?"

"Wow. You are _really_ paranoid, aren't you?" Regina joked dryly. "Does this kind of thing happen often?" When the blonde didn't respond, she continued, saying, "There's a letter from you inside the zippered pocket of the purse. Read it."

Reluctantly letting the woman out of her grip, she reached for the bag and unzipped the compartment, then unfolded the letter inside.

" _Regina,_

 _I promise I won't forget. Not ever._

 _Yours,_

 _Emma"_

Straightening up, Emma looked at Regina with flashing, serious eyes, then grabbed the bottle and downed it in one go.

Regina waited anxiously for the result, praying to whatever gods existed that the potion would work the way it was intended. She only spoke up when she saw Emma start to cry as she dropped the loaded weapon on the bed to reach up and cover her face.

"It's been a long time," the brunette said slowly, her voice soft.

"Why did you let me leave?" Emma choked out, her voice cracking as she held back sobs.

"I had to."

"No, you didn't. You-"

"You know I had to."

"That's a stupid excuse!" the blonde screamed, reaching for the camera and cocking her arm back in a threatening gesture of destruction.

The older woman grabbed her wrist first, though, and pried the small electronic device out of her hand, placing it safely on the pillow on the right side of the bed.

"I know you're angry with me," she said slowly. "And that's okay. But don't destroy the one thing I had left of you."

"If you cared so much, you shouldn't have let me go," Emma sniffled, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Stop it. I had to. I did it to save you. To save Henry. You _know_ that."

"How did you even find me?"

"Oh, Emma…" Regina sighed. "I will always find you."

"But how? How did you-"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, I found you, and I'm not leaving unless you tell me to."

"You owe me so many fucking apologies!" Emma screamed, grabbing a handful of the contents of Regina's purse – including her lipstick, compact mirror, and stick of eyeliner – and throwing it at her.

"I do. I am sorry. I am," the brunette sighed, flinching as the items hit her. "But there are more important things for me to say to you right now."

"Yeah?" Emma asked, voice shaking. "Like what?"

"I want you for worse or for better. I would wait forever for you. I broke your heart, but I'll put it back together. I would wait _forever_ , Emma..."

Of course, this kind of cheesy, love-filled confession was far beyond Emma's ability to defend against, so she simply broke down sobbing, pained by all the memories, and fell into the woman's strong arms, letting Regina hold her tightly as she felt their love pulsing between them.

 _And that's how it works._

 _That's how you get the girl._

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 **A/N: Told ya it was horrible! I had fun writing it, though, and that's what matters. Thanks for the inspiration, Taylor Swift!**


End file.
